‘We’re here, we’re here!’ The boys whooped when the carriage that had taken them from the train station pulled up outside their grandparents’ house in Mayfair. It had been a horrendous and lengthy journey and Amber was utterly exhausted, but even so she stared from the window at the house in awe. London was like another world compared to Whitby and up to now she wasn’t at all sure that she liked it. At the station she had been mesmerised by the amount of people rushing to and fro, and by the volume of traffic on the roads. There were hackney cabs, private carriages, dray horses pulling huge carts and all manner of vehicles, and to someone who was used to nothing louder than the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, the noise was deafening. The air smelt strange too – foggy and sooty – and she felt a million miles away from home, although she had to admit to herself that the house looked very grand.

It was in a crescent that skirted a park and was three storeys’ high. Two bay trees pruned into fancy shapes stood either side of a shiny red door with a brass lionhead knocker on it, and the steps leading up to it were solid marble. A low, fancy wrought-iron railing ran along the front of it with steps leading down to the kitchen where snow-white lace curtains hung at the windows. The carriages had scarcely pulled up when the door was opened by a maid in a starched frilly white apron and seconds later a woman who looked like an older version of Mrs Temple erupted out of the door and hurried to the carriage in front to greet her daughter.

‘Helen, my darling, how I have missed you.’ Heedless of who might be watching the woman hugged her daughter and kissed her soundly on the cheek and before Amber could stop them the boys suddenly threw open the carriage door and raced to embrace the woman.

‘Grandmamma!’

‘Oh, my little loves!’ The woman threw her arms about them and wrapped them in a fierce embrace before leading them indoors, leaving Mr Wadsworth and Mr Temple to supervise the unpacking of the luggage while Amber stood there feeling completely out of her depth.

‘Come along, my dear,’ Mr Temple said, taking pity on her as he hefted a large bag up the steps. ‘I’m sure my wife will show you where to go.’

It was organised chaos in the hallway with the boys running riot as various members of staff stopped to greet them and the bags were brought in.

‘Daisy.’ Mrs Jennings, Mrs Temple’s mother, beckoned to one of the maids. ‘Would you take Miss Ainsley up to her room, please? She’s to go in the one next to the boys.’